they are NOT fans, to be sure. they were all huddled together in the coop just peeking out the door until I came and shoveled a path through the 8" to their food and water (which is located approximately 6 or 7 feet from the coop door). and even then it was mostly just the younger ones who were willing to get their feet wet (I understand girls, I hate the feeling of wet, naked feet- unless I'm at the beach, and then it is acceptable and even quite grand).
poor Pearl came down to check it out and then flapped her way back up onto the ramp, staring down at the white stuff in disgust. Margaret, it seemed, agreed with Pearl's disgust and bewilderment.
a while later, on a trip out for more wood, I noticed Rose standing in the middle of the yard. our yard, not theirs. a good twenty or thirty feet from the coop. that chicken was standing as tall as she possibly could, with her little tail feathers pulled up toward the sky. my guess is she tried to fly up and away from the snow, only to land herself out in the middle of it, not knowing what to do next. she couldn't have been there for very long, but it was long enough to try several times to fly herself back up and over, according to the wing markings all around her. poor little Rose. I delivered her back to the warm coop.
snow birds, they are not.